The Howling
by Shanne
Summary: Birthday gift for rockerchica826 over at LiveJournal. SLASH HPDM. Creature!fic.


**General warnings: **

1) This fic deals with **SLASH**. Slash as in boy/boy relationships, comprendre? Not your cup of tea, then go get coffee. _No_ flames accepted. **You have been warned.**

2) English is _not_ my mother tongue so please excuse possible mistakes and kindly point them out so that I may actually _learn_ from them.

**Rating:** Hard R

**Disclaimer: **I own diddly squat.

**Summary: **Birthday gift for rockerchica826 over at LiveJournal. Happy Birthday, sweetie!

**A/N: **Okay, this oneshot hasn't been beta-ed so any mistakes or difficulties with phrases are my own. Feel free to point them out.

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**The Howling**

Pain. It marked him like a brand. Spread through his body like poison and flared in his bones like fire.

And then it was gone. Scattered and shattered like dust in the wind. Except for a reminder. A dull throb on the back of his right shoulder. Like another one of Voldemort's marks.

Harry opened his eyes a fraction; and closed them, momentarily blinded by the intensity of the light falling on his face from a window. Moonlight. It burned his retinas and sent another throbbing jolt of pain through his skull.

He whimpered.

A small sound of which he was ashamed of. He was supposed to be strong. Infallible. What people expected of him. Yet now he felt weak. detached and at the mercy of the fates. And for the life of him, he couldn't remember why. Memories were a blur. Phantasms in the night. Shimmering silver smoke in the dark. Taunting and unreachable.

Harry tried moving. It was agonizing. It was as though his bones rubbed against each other, like someone had poured acid in his veins and it ran through his bloodstream with his blood.

"I'm sorry…," a voice broke though the haze of his agony. And just like that, Harry's mind and body tried to do what he was trained to be. A protector and a savior. Strong, impossible to knock down and selfless. All the pain was pushed back with Herculean effort, and Harry turned his head slightly and opened his eyes again.

He wanted to scream. Yet didn't. He needed to stay strong, while the figure huddled in a dark corner looked like it wasn't. He needed to stay strong for the both of them. It was his job and duty. It was what the Wizarding World expected of him.

The figure was rocking slightly, face buried in knees that were drawn up to its chest. Platinum hair that shone silver in the moonlight fell smoothly in a chaotic cascade over folded, thin arms. And Harry recognized that figure. He'd been watching it for the past six years of his life, after all.

"Malfoy," he croaked, his voice sounding broken and painfully hoarse to his own ears.

The figure stilled and lifted its head slowly, as if anticipating a sudden blow. And sure enough, the figure was Malfoy.

Malfoy, who had disappeared with Snape after Dumbledore's murder. Malfoy, the Death Eater, who had chosen Voldemort over the Light in order to keep his family safe.

Harry had expected this reunion to bring forth bitterness and hatred. He was mildly surprised to note that all he felt for his once nemesis was curiosity and pity.

Malfoy looked the same as he ever did. He was still pointy, and his posture was much the same as it was in sixth year. But yet he didn't. He looked… paler and sickly and his cool eyes had lost their ice. Those grey orbs were now just empty and his face betrayed no emotion, except apprehension.

It wasn't anything like what Harry had envisioned. But, then again, nothing really was the way he supposed it would be. He had expected the Horcrux hunt to last less than a year. It lasted two. He had expected that once the final piece of Voldemort's soul disappeared, it would be easier to kill the Dark Lord. It wasn't. If anything, it was harder.

So Harry shouldn't really be surprised to see that his… 'reunion' with Malfoy was so… not what he expected. But still, he was. He was, because memories of the previous night flooded his mind.

Memories of a huge silver wolf chasing him through the forest. Memories of catching his foot on a branch and falling down. Memories of trying to pick himself up, only to be pinned down by what seemed like a ton of snarling fur. He remembered screaming, and he remembered his voice going impossibly high, only to turn soundless when long, razor-sharp teeth sank into his shoulder blade. He remembered the oppressing silence that followed and the rhythmic pumping oh his own blood in his ears. And the pain and the darkness that blissfully edged along his vision.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy repeated, when Harry's panic began to mount and reach frightening levels. "I didn't mean to. I couldn't control it."

Just like that, Harry found himself grounded. Soothed back into a state of casual awareness of the situation. It was like Malfoy had kissed his boo-boo all better and now he could think again. Because the pain wasn't there anymore. The bones that rubbed against each other were protected by a smooth surface and the acid in his veins was now fluid grace.

Harry moved his muscles tentatively, rolling them cautiously. No discomfort was forthcoming. He didn't know if he should count that as a good sign or not. Not now that he seemed to be aware of every glitch in the floorboards and of every dent in the plaster. He felt every drift in the house and heard the sounds outside as if they were in that dilapidated room with him.

"What'd you do to me?" he asked, starting to feel the tendrils of panic wrap around his skin.

"I bit you… turned you," Malfoy said, cool and collected, unlike how he'd been just moments ago.

Harry was soothed into peacefulness once more; his eyes drifted towards the moon, shining through a broken window. Waning gibbous Moon. He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. After the full moon. After the wolf bit him.

A hand settled on his shoulder, across his bite mark. Across his curse mark. He started, head turning sharply, eyes locking with Malfoy's.

"I'm sorry," the blond repeated again and kissed him.

Harry sat there, momentarily frozen. But then he kissed Malfoy back, because he'd been dreaming of doing it for years and this might be his only chance to ever do it. The kiss was wild, like their blood and kin. Sensual, like their hidden grace, and heated like their tempers and when Malfoy licked the seam of his lips, demanding entrance, it was mind-blowing _fantastic_.

His mind reeled with the intensity of it all, and his limbs felt heavy. And then Malfoy was pushing him back on the small blanket that covered the floor, never once breaking the kiss, as if kissing was suddenly more important than air. Maybe it was. Because Harry couldn't imagine living without it now that he'd had a taste of Malfoy's soft lips.

But then those lips were gone, and Harry felt empty and desolate without them. Like something dear had been ripped away from him and denied for the rest of his life. He might have made a noise of protest, he might have not, but Malfoy was suddenly chuckling and kissing him again. Kissing his lips, his cheeks, his jaw and his neck, adding small nips and stinging bites, alternating between them in an erratic and arousing pattern that drove Harry crazy with need.

"Please," Harry said, not caring if he was begging for more contact, or if he sounded desperate.

It didn't matter, though. Because Malfoy obliged, and he was between Harry's legs in a flash, rubbing his groin against his, licking into his mouth and tearing at Harry's shirt in an effort to get it off.

"Please," said Harry again, arching into the other's rough touch.

Their clothes were suddenly gone, accompanied by the clatter of wood on wood, and Harry recognized his own wand on the floor besides them, and he wondered, idly, why he hadn't thought of it before now.

And then he wasn't thinking at all anymore, because Malfoy's cock was sliding against his own, creating blissful friction between their bodies and Harry clawed at Malfoy's back and spread his legs wantonly, wanting_ more_.

Malfoy looked down at him, a spark of hesitation in his darkened eyes that was quickly replaced by lust - pure, wild desire that made Harry's breath catch.

"_Please_," he breathed, almost like a prayer.

Malfoy nodded and leaned in for a kiss, unlike the rest of them. It was tentative, searching, tender and reassuring. Harry's body stilled, except for his mouth, his entire focus on the simple act of kissing and being kissed.

There was a flash of pain in his lower regions, where Malfoy had prepared him silently and expertly without Harry noticing. How could he have noticed? What with Malfoy's tongue in his mouth and his hand around his cock? But the pain was gone at the sound of Malfoy's hushed voice whispering soothing things into his ear. Just like the pain in his body earlier.

And then Malfoy _moved_, and Harry's world shattered entirely.

Malfoy's presence was overpowering above him around him and _inside _of him and Harry felt lost and safe and ridiculously happy to bare himself further to the blond's desires. Every thrust of Malfoy's hips between his legs seemed to shatter and rearrange something deep within him in waves of white-hot pleasure that left him aching for _more_ and _harder_ and _faster_.

Harry felt lost and small in the enormity sensations coursing through him and he could do nothing more than cry out as Malfoy rode him hard and fast, grounding him with a hand in his raven locks and losing him with a hand on his cock.

And then -much too soon and much too late all at once- it was over. Harry came with a scream and Malfoy marked his own completion with a howl that ran through Harry's body with the aftershocks of a mind-boggling orgasm. And then there was a dance of white lights behind his eyelids… and then darkness, for what seemed like one blissful moment.

Harry came to with a sigh and tightened his arms around the body that covered his in a protective gesture. Malfoy nuzzled his neck in response.

"You're mine," he said and Harry nodded his acknowledgement.

He could feel Malfoy's eyes on him: narrowed, demanding and unforgiving. "I'm yours," he acknowledged with a sigh of contentment.

The eyes watching him softened and a kiss was placed on his temple. A light gesture of affection and trust.

oOo

The night air was cold and crisp, but everything was clear and sharp. Frozen snow melted or colored as warm blood covered it. Shrill cries of fear and terror pierced the silence until nothing else could be heard but the crunching of snow under their weight as two figures approached the shredded body of what was once the Dark Lord.

Crimson, lifeless eyes stared blankly at the starry sky as two howls echoed through the forest.

And then the figures were gone, and in the night, two wolves ran, one silver and one midnight black, their fur matted with blood and gore, but shining with victory over the darkest wizard of their time.

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